3 Things on Longing

On longing

This is the kind of post that I'd likely read and roll my eyes at, but it's been on my mind a lot- what moves me. What I long for. What stirs my soul.

On a recent long car ride to the Washington Coast, I thought

1. Adventure in the great wide somewhere

Last month I went to visit my sister and while there we took her four girls to see the new live action Beauty and the Beast. It was Jamie's first time in a movie theater. It did not go well for him (thanks to a giant bag of popcorn he lasted until the beginning of Be Our Guest), I did get to fully enjoy my favorite song in all of Beauty of the Beast, the opening number, Little Town. Even better, actually, is the reprise, where Belle, disgusted and mystified at Gaston’s advances, escapes to a beautiful mountain meadow and sings about what she really wants out of life:

I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell.

The moment is beautiful and moving even as an adult and I was surprised at how overcome with emotion it made me. I remember having a similar reaction as a little girl when watching the scene and it hasn't gone away.

I never had a Gaston or provincial life, but there's something stirring about Belle’s throwing her hands out to the universe telling it, I want you, Universe. I don't know what experiences are out there that I'm chasing, but I want them from somewhere deep inside me.

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2. Beautiful things and beautiful words

A few years ago I attended the Bellevue Arts and Crafts Fair for the first time. I went by myself, it was the middle of summer. Some 500 stalls of painters and sculptors and artisans (and popsicle sellers. It was a million degrees out) set up shop in the parking garage of the mall. The setting is nothing pretty, quiet the opposite. But I wandered around with literal pangs of, I don't know, some combination of awe and adoration and lust for all the beautiful things on display and for sale. I was overcome by a desperate, pulsing desire to fill my home and my life with beautiful things. I feel it from time to time, though I rarely seek it out. There is so much art out there I think is ugly, pretentious, or downright weird. But when it strikes, I feel it down to my sternum. The last time it struck was a drive by of this giant statue in downtown Seattle (On 9th and Mercer if you want to see it), The Meeting of the Minds (by Spanish artist Jaume Pluma). IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL. It's two people sitting cross-legged, facing each other. Their bodies are made up of letters and different language characters. If I could buy a shelf-sized version (this one is 12 ft tall) I would.

I have started being drawn to poetry, which elicits similar pangs. I think there might be even more crappy and ho-hum poetry than there is crappy visual art, if that's possible, but I'm trying to wade through it to find poets and styles that I'd exceptional.

3. Connection with the great web of humanity

My best friend/self help guru Brene Brown (she's not really, it just feels like it because I refer to her research so often) talks a lot about how human beings are hardwired for human connection. It fuels the development of civilization, from vast geopolitical happenings to interactions between neighbors and family. In adulthood I've come to realize that I am more of an introvert than anyone would have ever guessed. I always pegged myself as an extrovert -- I am comfortable in big groups, generally social, and enjoy gatherings -- but it turns out I get burnt out by all of these things. And, contrary to what many introverts will say, being an introvert isn't necessarily about hating people or being a loner, but rather being fueled my smaller, deeper connections. It's harder to seek these out, I've realized, than simply being surrounded by people. It requires being vulnerable (gulp...) and taking time to let trust accumulate (I'm all for rushing toward friendly intimacy, but apparently it doesn't work like that).

I feel this not only with people I know but, in this gigantic impossible way, with the world. I want to connect with you know, everyone. Everywhere. Simple, right?

While in New York in June, I bought this print that says

"I'm in love with cities I've never been to and people I've never met"

Yes. I am.